Some more notes on an event I went to at the Victoria and Albert Museum: Professor Frances Corner in conversation with Yohji Yamamoto.

Photographers like August Sander and Irving Penn, especially their images of people in everyday working clothes, have influenced Yamamoto greatly. What appeals to him most are the clothes that are a functional statement, related to the body.

Often, Yamamoto chooses to hide the body, make it into a house, a house made of cloth. Then, the imagination gets to work and tries to work out what is inside the house. That, to Yamamoto, is sexier than letting it all hang out.

Yamamoto is aware that he is probably a very contrary character. Whatever is considered appropriate, polite, on trend, he runs away from. ‘I am a very twisted man!’

Yamamoto has this to say on fast fashion: ‘I am praying – don’t waste clothes.’

BDW

I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum recently to listen to Professor Frances Corner interview Yohji Yamamoto, the Japanese ‘dress maker’ as he calls himself.

Some notes on what I heard follow.

For Yamamoto, working in a studio with his assistants are his happiest moments.

He hates fashion. Most specifically, Yamamoto hates the ideas of trends influencing our choice of clothing. To Yamamoto, fashion is about air, and air moves and influences people. Yamamoto runs from this.

He is aiming to achieve timelessness in his design.

Yamamoto always thought/thinks that he is working in a totally international manner, such was, and is the influence on his work of designers like Coco Chanel, Elsa Schiaparelli, Christóbal Balenciaga. Like them, Yamamoto works hard to get the cut right. Tailoring is a big influence.

Yamamoto works so hard to get the cut right that he often forgets to imbue colour in his designs. Anyway, colour can be disturbing to his vision of the garment. If he uses colour, he uses pure, undiluted colour.

BDW

De-installing Washed Up at Selfridges the other night, I was tasked with the job of moving Philip Treacy’s silver Lobster hat he created for Lady Gaga from a display cabinet in the exhibition to one of the windows facing the street.

Fantastical, surreal objects as fashion are evocative and tantalising, drawing out reactions and ideas that may not appear again, but which surprise, delight, or dismay. They sit alongside other objects, each juxtaposing the other, challenging perceived preconceptions. Evocative objects are needed so that we can reiterate the famous line – the shock of the new. Be that a completely new idea, or juxtaposition of ideas.

Isn’t that what fashion is about: to challenge, to push forward, to renew relentlessly.

That is, if you like fashion.

BDW

Unpicking something is always an interesting experience. If you may remember, I had to get the help of the obsessive knitter (#4 – A Good Ribbing) to unpick some mittens I was rushing to finish on time awhile back (moral to this story: knitting is not going to grow miraculously longer just because you have somewhere else to be).

Which got me thinking about unravelling, as I was de-installing Washed Up, the exhibition at Selfridges in the heart of London, last weekend. Another overnight adventure (we finished at 6.30am), it always amazes me (even though it shouldn’t as I have done it enough times) how quickly something can be unpicked, pulled apart, re-made, renewed, re-thought through.

Perhaps it was the tiredness that confused my internal body clock and hazy mind. Who knows, but the thought remained: once unpicked, it will never be the same again, but that only invites new opportunities and possibilities for the future.

BDW

My friend Kari lives by the sea and creates beautiful arrangements of flowers that she sells at markets and shops. We recently spent a warm April day together where she lives by the sea, taking in the fresh air, browsing along the lanes lined with antique shops, and eyeing up the floral competition (Kari’s petals are prettier).

I left with anemones and tulips in arm, their heads bobbing and swaying on the train journey home. The colours, pink and bright red and ultramarine blue, were beautiful partners to live with for a time.

BDW

Earthquake housekeeping consists of picking up shards of glass and china, bricks, wood and anything else broken in the turmoil; washing floors, walls and ceilings covered in kitchen condiments; gathering up books that once again have spread themselves around the room; checking the furniture for splits and broken legs; mopping up the mats from the broken vases; picking up the pots in the garden……

I am now an expert at earthquake housekeeping and I want to change my career. Could someone please ask the Universal Gardener to go plough up some other field and leave us to plant some flowers in our broken garden.

MBW

It is 13 June, 2011.

Over 7000 quakes since September 4 and they are not abating. Today we have experienced more than 50 shocks, some strong enough to throw things across a room and tumble a person to the ground. We are weary.

We thought the big ones were over as the numbers appeared to be lessening, but, no, they have given us a day to remember that we would rather forget.

MBW

The blossoms have raced ahead of Mother Nature’s annual clock this spring (on this side of the world). The bluebells and daffodils are done now after brilliant displays throughout April.

The pollen count is on overdose, and lots of people are sneezing and wheezing with London’s Plane trees spreading their fluffy clouds of joy.

When we can find the time, a friend and I walk through the Chantries, a beautiful wooded area outside Guildford. At this time of year, swathes of shimmering bluebells, drowsy heads looking to the earth, rest under the dappled light of the trees.

BDW

To prove the point regarding angles (#24), here’s a photo I took of Carmen dell’Orefice at a photoshoot a few years ago.

Carmen working it at 78 (years at the time).

BDW

A few years ago I had the pleasure to assist on a photoshoot where the model was the wonderful Carmen dell’Orefice. Turning 80 this year, she is one of the grand dames of the fashion industry, but she wears the mantle lightly.

No airs or graces, no quirky demands (just an Americano coffee), just pure professionalism. She would put on the outfit, and with a slick of lippy and a tousle of the glorious white hair, away she went. Working the clothes, getting the angle just so, looking down at her body almost as if disembodied, to see she was in the right frame to capture the best of the frock.

It was almost a disappointment when we got through a whole rail of clothes in the space of 4 hours (including hair and make-up – in fashion terms, that’s lightening speed). None of the

crew wanted it to end. It was such a pleasure to watch someone at the pinnacle of their game, do what they do so well. No fuss, just working to capture the best of the best.

The last thing she said to me that day was ‘live a good life.’

BDW